Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. Many of the soldiers dismounted, and called for drink. Heaven knows what dim and tawdry conceptions of passion and desire were in that blond cranium, what romance-begotten dreams of intrigue and adventure! but they sufficed, when presently Ann Veronica went out into the darkling street again, to inspire a flitting, dogged pursuit, idiotic, exasperating, indecent. “Don’t you understand, Nigel,” she said softly, “that it was precisely for this I have worked so hard.
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